


Conversation With Ducky

by Ytteb



Series: Conversations [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:25:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Tony and Ducky talk - Tony is confused! No plot and it's a little angsty.





	Conversation With Ducky

Tony DiNozzo entered his apartment and sagged against the door in relief at having shut the world out at last.

After a moment or two, he dropped his keys on to the tray and put his gun in the safe and then, summoning a smile, peered into the goldfish bowl,

“Hello, my lovelies!  And how are you this fine evening?”  He sprinkled a few flakes of food on the surface of the water and grinned as the two fish scrambled madly for the food.  “Gently, ladies!  There’s enough for both of you … although you know I don’t mind a good food fight!”  He stooped a little lower, “May have to get you a new companion – how do you feel about that?  A little Zoe to mix things up a bit …”  Tony sighed.

Tony shrugged his coat off and went to look at his alcohol stash – with a weekend off it was suddenly tempting to drink it all away.  He had just reached for a bottle when there was a knock on the door.  Tony groaned – quietly, so that the person at the door wouldn’t know there was anyone in – he wasn’t in the mood for one of his well-meaning (or not well-meaning) neighbours.  It must, he reasoned, be someone from the building as nobody had rung the door intercom.

Tony waited a few moments, hoping to hear the sound of retreating footsteps but instead there came another rap on the door and he heard a voice saying,

“Anthony, I know you are there.  I saw your car in the parking garage and I came in with one of your neighbours who said they had seen you.”

Tony frowned, he couldn’t remember Ducky ever visiting him before in his apartment and somehow, he didn’t think he would give up.  He sighed and went to open the door,

“Ducky?  What are you doing here?”  He drew his cell out and peered at in puzzlement, “Did we get called back in?  I didn’t get a call.”

“No, Anthony.  I am not here to drag you back to work …”  Ducky looked uncharacteristically uncertain, “I wish to speak with you.”

“Can it wait?” asked Tony.  “I’ve only just got in … and I’m kinda tired,” _and in need of a strong drink_ went unsaid.

“No, it cannot,” said Ducky sternly.

“OK then,” said Tony, “I guess you’d better come in.”  He gestured towards the couch and then, feeling a little ashamed of a less than warm welcome, added, “Can I get you something?”

Ducky took his overcoat and hat off and unwrapped the scarf from around his neck.  Tony frowned again, it looked as if Ducky was settling in for a long stay, “What do you have?” asked Ducky.

“Um, coffee … tea … Scotch … no, wait – Senior finished my bottle of Macallan 18 last time he was in town … I’ve got some bourbon – although Boss hasn’t been around for a while …”  Tony got up and looked at his shelves of bottles.  “There’s a bottle of claret, some vodka and hey, I’ve got some _Glenlivet_ Scotch … or …”

Ducky cut into the catalogue of drinks, “Glenlivet will be acceptable.  With a dash of water, please and no ice.”

“Coming up,” said Tony.  “I’ll join you.”

A moment or two later, both men were sitting nursing their drinks.  Ducky allowed an uncharacteristically long silence to stretch before speaking, “You know, drinking Glenlivet reminds me of a time when I had just graduated from Edinburgh Medical School … my fellow students and I went out on a rather wild drinking spree.  Why is it, I wonder that medical professionals are not always the best at heeding their own advice?  Suffice to say that Glenlivet played a rather prominent part in that evening’s _festivities_ and I awoke the next morning … or rather, the next _afternoon_ , with a rather spectacular hangover.  I fear that it gave me a somewhat unreasonable prejudice against what is, of course, a rather fine whisky – I am glad to have been re-introduced to it this evening.”

“Great,” said Tony rather unenthusiastically.  He swallowed the last of his own drink and made to stand up, thinking that Ducky had finished what he wanted to say.

“I wonder,” said Ducky, “If I might trouble you for another glass?” said Ducky.  He seemed to sense a certain reluctance and hastened to say, “I will be calling for a taxi to take me home.  You need have no fear that I will be driving _under the influence_.”

“Great,” said Tony again before going to get Ducky and himself a refill.

Armed with a second drink, Ducky seemed to realise that his host was puzzled by the visit, “But, of course, I did not come to visit you in your rather elegant apartment simply to reminisce about my student days, Anthony.”

“No?”

“No, indeed not … although I can assure you that I have many tales I could tell you …”

“Sure.”

“And I think that is something that you and I have in common, Anthony.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.  From the anecdotes I have heard you sharing with your co-workers I would surmise that you had a somewhat rambunctious time in Columbus?”

“Hmm.”

“But again, that is not the purpose of my visit.  Although it does lead, in a tangential way, to what I wished to speak to you about …”

Tony suppressed a sigh.

“I have been thinking about my life, Anthony.  You understand?  Reviewing it somewhat and reflecting on it.  What would your picture be of my life?”

“Ducky?” asked Tony in surprise, “Er, isn’t this the sort of thing you’d normally speak to Gibbs about?  Or pretty much anyone but me?”

“I understand your perplexity.  And indeed, Jethro has been, and still is, a surprisingly sympathetic listener.  Perhaps it is the _functional muteness_ , as you so aptly termed it, which allows him to be a useful listening post.”

“Is he out?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you go to Casa Gibbs and find that the door was locked?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Is that why you’re here?  Because Gibbs wasn’t around?”

“Indeed, no.  You are not a second choice, my boy.  I am here because I realised that I needed to share something with you.”

“Oh,” said Tony, again with the air of a suppressed sigh.  “Then fire away, I guess.”

“So, I will ask again.  What is your picture, your _impression_ of my life?”

“Ducky, I’m not sure I can answer that,” said Tony helplessly.

“Of course you can,” said Ducky briskly, “You are a trained observer of the human condition.  I see no reason why you cannot apply those skills to someone you know well.”

Tony frowned as he considered this, “Actually, Ducky I’m not sure how well I know you.”

“How so?”

“Well, you … well, you talk a lot … say a lot but you don’t necessarily reveal what’s going on inside.”

“Go on.”

“When your Mom died, you didn’t tell anyone.  When you’ve been dating someone you didn’t always let us know … there was that time – years ago – when you didn’t tell us about that Jane Doe you’d been brooding over for years even though there was a connection with a live case … and then …”

“Enough!” commanded Ducky, raising a hand, “You have shown, more than adequately, that _sometimes_ I prefer to keep things to myself.  What else would you say you know about me?”

“I don’t know,” said Tony, “You’re good at the job – none better, I would say.  Dedicated, particular and driven.  You seem to have lots of friends, lots of things going on outside of work.  In fact,” Tony paused and looked at his watch, “Isn’t tonight your bridge night?  You’ll need to be going soon,” he ended on a hopeful note.

“No need to worry,” said Ducky reassuringly, “I have arranged for a substitute partner to take my place this evening.  I have all the time in the world.”

“Great,” said Tony, sinking back on to the couch.

“So, you may continue,” said Ducky serenely.

“I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Hmm, and what would your _assessment_ be of my state of mind?”

“What?”

“You heard me, I am sure.  Your hearing has always been very acute.  Perhaps not as sharp as Jethro’s but we all know that his hearing is preternaturally keen.”

“You’re asking me what I think your state of mind is?”

“Indeed.”

“Ducky, I don’t think I’m the right person to be asking about this,” protested Tony, “I’m sure Gibbs will be home by now.”

“It is not Jethro’s opinion that I am seeking,” said Ducky inexorably, “It is yours.”

“Then, I’d say,” said Tony reluctantly, “That you seem happy enough.  You enjoy your work, you know it makes a difference and that you’re good at it.  You’ve got things going on outside of work, you’re interested in lots of things … I suppose I’d say that you _function_ very well and that you don’t have anything to worry about,” Tony finished speaking with the air of having spoken to reassure an anxious witness.

“Thank you,” said Ducky.

“You’re welcome,” lied Tony.  He made to stand again but Ducky waved him back down.

“And what would you say about my _emotional_ life?”

Tony squirmed, “Ducky, are you asking for my opinion about your _love life_?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.  I might not have expressed it in quite those terms but, in essence, you are correct.”

“You really want to know what I think about your dating?” asked Tony in continued surprise.

“Indeed.”

“I’m not sure I have an opinion,” said Tony flatly.

“Try.  Form one!” ordered Ducky.

Tony, fearing that he’d never get his apartment to himself again if he didn’t answer, decided to do as directed, “Since I’ve known you, I’d say that you’ve dated a lot of women …”

“Yes …”

“So, I guess you _like_ women …”

“Continue.”

“And that might mean that you’d have liked one of them to have _stuck_ – if you know what I mean?”

“I do.  Carry on.”

“But none of them have.  But it’s probably not your fault,” Tony added hastily.

“And why would you say that none of them have _stuck_?”

“I don’t know!” said Tony in something like horror, “I guess the demands of the job can make dating difficult … and at least one of your girlfriends turned out to be a crazy …”

“Yes,” said Ducky reminiscently, “That definitely turned out to be a _doomed_ relationship.  What else, Anthony?”

But Tony had had enough, “Nothing,” he said firmly, “That’s all I’ve got.”

“And it was a good assessment,” said Ducky, apparently deciding to be merciful.  “You are right, I do like women … and I would have liked one of the relationships to have matured into something deeper but none of them did.”  Ducky sighed and took another sip of his whisky.

“That’s how it goes sometimes,” said Tony bracingly.  “Perhaps the right person is out there waiting for you.”  He made to rise again, as if hoping that when Ducky left, he’d find his perfect woman waiting in the hall for him.

Ducky ignored the hint, “I think I have always hoped that I would find someone for whom I would come first … and someone who could come first with me …”

“Hmm …”

“And I wonder why that never happened.”

“Hmm …”

“You know, Anthony, you and I have much in common.”

“We do?”

“Indeed we do.  We both probably had less than ideal childhoods.  I loved Mother dearly but she was always had a tendency towards eccentricity and I often felt, even as a child, that I was the responsible adult.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  And although I am pleased to see that you and your father have managed some degree of rapprochement, I would say that you have a similar feeling about your parent.”

“I guess.”

“And when you noted, with great acuity, that although I talk a lot I don’t always _reveal_ much I would say that you were saying something which could equally apply to yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“If I might say so Anthony, you often talk a lot but don’t reveal much about your inner feelings,” Ducky explained.

“Oh.”

“And when you described me and my attitude to work, you could have been describing yourself.”

“Yes?”

“Indeed, you too are _dedicated, particular and driven_.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are.  And you also seem to have friends and interests outside of work.”

“I suppose so.”

“And you date many women,” said Ducky.

“You bet!” said Tony.

“But none of them have _stuck_.”

“Ducky, what’s all this about?” asked Tony in desperation.  “Why did you come here tonight?”

“I heard, on the office grapevine … that you and Miss Keates are no longer in a relationship.”

“And you came to console me?” asked Tony dubiously.

“No.  Well, I mean, do you _need_ consoling?”

Tony thought for a moment or two, “I guess not.  Don’t get me wrong, we had a great time … and for a while I thought it was going to work but it just seemed to fizzle out.  One of those things.”  Another sigh was suppressed.

“Anthony, would you consider that I seem a _fulfilled_ person?”

Tony had given up querying Ducky’s questions so simply gave this one his consideration, “I’d say so,” he said finally.

“Because I am successful and have friends and interests outside work?”

“I guess.”

“Well, you would be wrong,” said Ducky firmly.

“Oh.  You sure you don’t want to be talking to Gibbs about this?”

Ducky ignored this suggestion, “And I think the reason I am not fulfilled is because I have never found _the_ person with whom to share my life.”

“OK, well, that’s sad,” offered Tony.

“And I think my relationships have all failed because, in the end, I have not devoted enough energy to making them work.”

“OK,” said Tony cautiously.

“And I think that failure is somehow due to an underlying belief that nobody will actually want to love me.”

“Hmm,” said Tony noncommittally and slightly desperately.

“It may be that that feeling has roots in a lonely childhood, to being surrounded by relationships that failed … or perhaps …”

“Yes?” prompted Tony.

“I wonder sometimes if it is because I have somehow always been seeking after _perfection_.”

“Ducky?”

“Perhaps my failure to devote effort to making relationships last is down to an underlying belief that I should not have to work at relationships.  Look at Timothy and Mr Palmer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Both Timothy and Mr Palmer seem to have managed to construct, and maintain, strong and meaningful relationships with members of the opposite sex.”

“I guess.”

“And I think that is because, for whatever reason, they understand that relationships have to be worked at … that they do not appear ready made and perfect and they are prepared to put work into them.”

“Well,” said Tony cheerfully, “That’s great!  Now you’ve worked that out, you can follow their example next time.  Hey, perhaps you should be taking advice from _them_!” _and not me,_ were again words left unsaid.

“Anthony,” said Ducky patiently, “I have not come here seeking your advice.”

“Oh.  Then what did you come here for?”

“To _give_ you advice.”

“About what?”

Ducky tutted, “Don’t be obtuse, Anthony!”

“I’m not,” protested Tony.

Ducky stared at him but decided to absolve him of deliberate obtuseness, “As I have tried to indicate to you, you and I have much in common.  Including, I believe, a tendency to expect perfection in our relationships … and perhaps an underlying feeling that we do not deserve to be happy.”

“Ducky, I have been in love.  And I have worked at relationships – you know that.  It wasn’t my fault that Wendy left me … and the whole Jeanne thing, well, that was doomed from the get-go.”

“Indeed,” said Ducky sympathetically, “And I do understand that you have been _unlucky in love_ … and these things are not always within our control but it seems to me …”

“What?”

“That your unhappy experiences have led to you not _trying_ very hard; that somehow you accept defeat before you have really started.”  Tony opened his mouth to speak but Ducky swept on, “Doubtless, you will tell me that your approach to dating has many advantages,” Tony smirked knowingly, “But I suspect that you also know that those _advantages_ are fleeting and, ultimately, unsatisfactory.”

Tony met Ducky’s eyes honestly for the first time that evening, “I guess so,” he admitted.

“And that is what I wanted to say to you, why I intruded on your solitude this evening,” continued Ducky, “I know what it is like to come to the evening of one’s life and look back with regret; to see the missed opportunities and wonder what would have happened if I had been more persistent, more hopeful, less ready to think myself unworthy of being loved.”

“Ducky …”

“And I have too much affection and esteem for you, Anthony, to see you tread a similar path.  My conscience would not be easy if I did not try to point out the dangers of what you are doing … and the prize which you are in danger of losing.”

Tony swallowed, “You think I should try again with Zoe?”

“Possibly.  You and she seemed to make a good couple,” said Ducky.  “But I’m not offering advice on this but just trying to alert you to the dangers of not fighting for what might be good.  After a while, you may find that opportunities no longer present themselves so readily.”

“Well …”

“You were an athlete …”

“ _Were_?” said Tony in an offended tone.

“I beg your pardon, you _are_ an athlete.  You, more than most, know the importance of training and effort – you know that perfection is rarely achieved without energy and commitment.  I am simply suggesting that you apply your experience in the sporting arena to the arena of your future happiness.”

With that, Ducky swallowed the last of his drink, and stood up.  “I hope you will forgive an old man’s garrulity,” he said, “But I care for all my co-workers and want to see them be happy.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony.

“And you will consider what I said?” said Ducky hopefully.

“You bet,” said Tony.  “And thank you.”

“And thank _you_ , Anthony for listening to me _and_ for re-introducing me to the pleasures of Glenlivet.”  Ducky held out his hand and Tony shook it warmly.

After escorting Ducky to the door, Tony returned to his couch and considered the unexpected conversation.  He glimpsed that Ducky had hit on something: that perhaps he _was_ too ready to accept the ending of his relationships and that he was too reluctant to allow other people see his inner self and to share his hopes and fears … perhaps it was time to change?

Tony sat a little longer, nursing his drink and wondering what to do.  Then, he took his cell out of his pocket and brought up Zoe’s number … perhaps it was a worth a try, perhaps he should reach out and suggest they had something worth fighting for … working on? 

Tony’s finger hovered over the number, imagining the conversation and he smiled at the thought. 

And then he sighed and returned the cell to his pocket … perhaps next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I usually want to ‘fix’ things but this time I wanted to write something a little melancholy … sorry!
> 
> The characters are back in their boxes – perhaps with something to think about.
> 
> I think Ducky and Tony have quite a lot in common …


End file.
